Background Music
by WWII
Summary: His friends, his family all turn against him. He is the only one between them and death... He is the only one to hear the Background Music: The moan of zombies. Chapter 13 is up!
1. Diplomatic Death

_**Blood flows freely through my wounds**_

_**Creatures bite me in rage**_

_**My eyes close then open**_

_**Hunger**_

The moaning is what gets you most. That endless droning, surprising you that their lips can even make a sound, some kind of reminder that they were once your friends, parents, neighbors. They search endlessly, for food that will always come. I've seen perfectly sane men jump into the blood stained hands of the strange creatures, their fingernails scratching their bodies, then their greedy mouths tear off the clothing, then the flesh of their victims. You'd give them a pity shot to the head, so they won't suffer, but you can't waste your bullets. You listen to them scream, then gurgle. Then _they'd _moan to, adding them to the background music.

My name is Jimmy Neutron. I've been sitting on the top of my house for four days now. There are three of my friends still here, the rest being lost to suicide, zombies, or military. We've survived off of nothing but sodas and candy, and whatever we could loot from the few houses we could get to. This is our story.

_October 27, Venezuela 6:00 AM_

"Zulu, what's your 20?"

"LZ is hot Omega, I can see it, and SAM sites are to the northeast. I suggest loading off in the woods to the west."

"10-4, landing men now."

The Blackhawk helicopter landed cautiously in a small clearing in the woods. It blades were silenced, for stealth. The doors pushed open and unguided guns pointed out the door.

"LZ is clear." Said a burly man into his microphone

15 soldiers shuffled off the helicopter in close order, guns clicked off of safety, and ammo was pulled out of pouches at the soldier's sides.

"Quick and simple, guys, quick and simple."

The men ran out of the forest and into a clearing surrounded by a huge fence, filled with dead bodies and men guarding over them, or so it seemed. They shuffled about, gas masks muffling whatever noises they may have made. Some of the guards had evidently been wounded, as many had bits of flesh hanging in some places.

"Silencers on." Said the sergeant in a firm voice.

The soldiers shuffled about and took out their silencers, clipping them on the end of their weapons. All of them picked targets, and checked their sights.

"Aim for the head. No chances we can have for screams and alerts."

The guards started staring up into the air, making sniffing motions, or looking around them. They must have heard the sergeant give his order.

And then they trained their eyes on the soldiers. They ran for the gates with an inhuman speed, and started shaking on the gates, as if they didn't know how to unlock the door. They were all brought down in a hail of silenced fire, all shots to the head. They collapsed immediately to the ground.

A man ran forward with wire cutters and cut the chains locking the gate. Men ran forward, stepping over the mound of bodies, to the dead or wounded men the dead soldiers were guarding. All had the same garb as the guards, black clothing, gloves, and a gas mask on their faces.

"So what's up with the masks?" asked one man

"Someone should check it out."

The sergeant agreed, and used the tip of his weapon to pull off the gas mask. The stench of rotting flesh flooded the air, its source being a decayed and grotesque head. Blood was streaming from its mouth, and its teeth were brown and rotted, as if he's had a field day with a child's bag of Halloween candy. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and part of his cheek was torn off. Whoever… or whatever killed him wasn't sane.

Suddenly he screamed and jumped up. He uselessly tried to claw the sergeant, but his gloves protected him from that. The monster wised up and flew at the sergeant, but was met in a volley of gunfire from the men standing by him. He fell on the sergeant, dead.

Every one stood stunned. A dead man had just got up and tried to attack another man. They were supposed to destroy a chemical engineering plant, but this was nothing that they had expected. Was this some strange type of accident or something… _else?_

A corporal gave the order to bash in the heads of every dead man. Just a precaution, he said, but everyone knew what he was thinking, and they tried to push the thought out. Were the gloves a precaution against the harmful scratches of the zombies, and the gas masks to prevent against bites?

They advanced to their goal: a chemical weapons facility with weapons aimed at the U.S. The Delta unit was ordered to destroy the site.

The place had men, actual men guarding it. They were in heavy body armor, Kevlar body suits with glass plates covering their eyes. Their weapons could pierce through the Kevlar with some difficulty and the glass easily. It was obvious it wasn't a has-mat suit, so it wouldn't protect from the chemicals inside of the facility. What desire purposes would they armor themselves so well for?

"Fire, aim for glass plate. Fix bayonets, also." Whispered the sergeant.

Shots wrung out as three of the guards dropped dead. No alarms were sounded, so they continued cautiously on their quest.

Inside, you could see the dark waters of the ocean. A ship was loaded with a large black, steel cage, with people being loaded inside. They were in regular clothes, and had to be pushed inside by more of the armored guards. They tried to bite and scratch them, but that was a futile effort, their teeth and nails were useless.

They saw another guard. He was swiftly taken care of, but with him was another creature, whom he was escorting to the cage. They swore and shot at his legs, but he ran away to the nearest guard.

More creatures came, along with guards. They shot at the soldiers, killing many. The creatures came and feasted their flesh and organs, while still others attacked the others. They turned into a creature themselves, attacking their once comrades. Soon, all that was a heap of dead bodies, and a few who were supposed to be dead. They were consumed with a unbearable hunger, their only instinct was to eat the living.

All of the creatures were loaded onto the cage, and the boat's engines were turned on. The boat was steered for one place: The United States.

"Those Americans will get a nasty surprise."

**_A/N_**: Hello, guys, I've decided to start a new story… Every chapter will be told from Jimmy's point of view, and may alternate to third person, like in the larger half of this chapter, to explain worldwide events. I'll try to get this updated as much as possible, so expect hopefully 2 a week, and on good days, one a day. Please R&R!


	2. Day of the Living Dead

_**Have you seen the ghost of John?**_

_**Big white bones with the flesh all gone…**_

_**Ooo, ooo ooo ooo ooo…**_

_**Wouldn't it be chilly with no flesh on?

* * *

**_

"The town of Retroville, Mr. Neutron, is _how_ far away from the border of Mexico and The United States?"

I listened to the withered voice of Mr. Stephens give me the same question, again, as if he couldn't believe I'd gotten a simple geography question right. He should know my IQ, he combed through my permanent record looking for bad or embarrassing instances, and he had to have found it.

"The town of Retroville is exactly 7.33 miles from the border." I said in the same, emotionless voice.

"You forgot the magic word, Mr. Neutron."

"The town of Retroville is exactly 7.33 miles from the border, _sir._"

The monster teacher nodded in approval, ignoring the snickers of the class behind him. It was everyday with him, he had to find a way to embarrass me.

"Say, if I wanted to become a teacher, would I have to find a stick to put up my ass, or does that come with the job?" whispered Sheen to Carl.

I winked at Sheen. He'd always be there for me, at least. I think he kept me from going off the deep end. It would be the Retroville High Massacre, and it'd be too graphic for some dumb host to make a documentary of on HBO.

"Mr. Sheen, I believe you need to respect your elders. I think a month erasing answers out of workbooks with Mr. Neutron will do the trick. Report to the Principals office, immediately."

Sheen flashed a smile as he got up, and turned around and winked at Libby. He walked up to me, and opened the door. He knew detention meant a one way ticket out of school; I'd already got us out of school enough times for him to know that.

"See you later, Neutron. Have fun with detention." Cindy said cruelly to Jimmy.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll see you soon enough, panty raid tonight, Sheen?"

Sheen gave the thumbs up and said, "You betcha Jimmy. I call the thongs this time."

"Oh, the skimpy kind like she's wearing right now, or the up the ass kind?"

"Both, baby. How'd you know what kind she's wearing?"

"Oh, I've been in her pants enough to know her schedule."

Cindy blushed a deep pink and Sheen and I walked out laughing all the way.

"So, same way?" asked Sheen once we were out of earshot.

I and Sheen had devised a plan. Well, mostly me. We walked into our lockers, opened them, and got in the pods. They provided an instant passage to a room beneath the school, where we then escaped to my house.

"Yeah, automatic fueling of rockets as we speak."

We opened our lockers and stepped in. Instantly, we were flying downwards at the speed of light. In a second, we were thrown out in a room with a large tunnel leading out.

We walked the mile to my house in the underground tunnel, avoiding the worms and spiders. I had meant to pave the road, but understandably I had better things to do.

We climbed the ladder up to my house, and sealed the entrance. Cindy was onto us, Carl had said that she eyed the lockers suspiciously every time she passed them, and she was almost a genius, herself.

Sheen flopped onto the couch, and picked up a Flurp. He opened it with a flick of his hands and turned on the TV. The screen was set with the CNN logo, and a girl standing by an intense skirmish. You could just make out hungry moans and groans coming from the background, followed by screams that might have been pleasure, but definitely were not.

"I hate news." Said Sheen in disgust, and reached for the remote.

"No, keep it on. It looks weird."

Sheen obeyed and watched, memorized by the screams of men.

"Yes, this is Nancy Greg, and I'm standing by what seems is… Wait, if the info I'm getting is correct, illegal Mexican aliens and United States Border Patrol are fighting _together._ That's right John, together. There is still no info on what they are battling, but we can make a good assumption that it is a huge threat."

A soldier ran forward, yelling at them to get out of there. Suddenly what looked like a muscular man tackled him to the ground. He was wearing the colors of the Americans, and a helmet. He would look like a regular person, if not for the numerous flesh wound on his body. Organs were spilling out of his body, with feces dripping out on the ground, mixed with the blood of his half torn off face. One eye was missing, and part of his jaw was hanging off. His skull, however, was undamaged, unless you considered decaying to be _damage._

Nancy started running away to the truck, the cameraman still running backwards filming her. More zombie soldiers, and now, Mexicans, were swarming her. One of them lunged for her ankle, grabbing it successfully. He jumped on top of her and unmercyilly ripped out her throat, consuming it with ferocity. The poor lady was still conscious, and now they were ripping out her legs, eating them as if they were chicken legs. She blacked out, but then awakened again, and crawled toward the camera man, dragging her stumps behind her. The man finally dropped the camera, and a mass of hundreds of undead people walked to him. In the shot you could just see hundreds more walking north, to the nearest town, most likely.

Wait. The nearest town. Suddenly, his own words entered his thoughts. 7.33 miles. The zombie horde was advancing to his town, ready to consume the flesh of others.

"Sheen... We have to warn them!"

"Yeah, I'm saving myself! Stock up on the food and the Ultralord tapes!"

I walked out to the lab, and plucked a hair. I placed against the scanner, but nothing happened. The power was off, and I couldn't open my lab.

"Oh, Shit."

My weapons, a lot of my food, all my inventions, everything was there. They had destroyed the power lines already, effectively isolating me from any hope of survival.

"Sheen, we have to go to town. The… things can't be far away. They already destroyed the power; I can't get in at all. We've gotta loot."

"Hey, I'm all for looting the stores of my fallen comrades, but shouldn't we wait for the invasion?"

"No, we've got to get as much as we can now."

We ran for the downtown area, full of stores. Evidently, school was out, because many students were sitting on benches kissing their sweethearts. I scorned them; I had no relationship worth speaking about. I had feelings for Cindy, but, I had enough dignity and intelligence to know that she didn't like me, and that even if she did I would never like her. Well, you know, admit that I like her.

"People! As we speak, zombies are storming the town! The power is off in all areas! I advise you to evacuate the town, no the state immediately!"

They stared at me blindly like I was an idiot. I couldn't blame them. They erupted into a spot of laughter, and then went back to their everyday lives. I shook my head. Any minute now they would be screaming their heads off, their brains spilling out of their head. Then they'd regret it.

I sighed and kicked down the door of Pappy's Gun Store. Inside was a variety of weapons, from handguns to rifles. Also here was ammo and long hunting knifes, perfect for bashing in a zombies head.

"Grab what you can, and be quick; we've still got to hit the store."

Sheen ran up and knocked Pappy unconscious with a rifle. They probably couldn't survive when they were held in custody by a few zombie policemen. The unfortunate side affect would be Pappy being dead and probably turned into a zombie, but they had to make some sacrifices to survive. In a world that was about to be overrun by the living dead, zombies wouldn't be the only ones you would add to the kill list.

I grabbed two bolt action rifles and shouldered them. I also quickly grabbed ammo for them and stuffed them in my denim backpack. I grabbed handguns and stuffed them into my pockets, too. Sheen had grabbed a shotgun and was stuffing ammo into his pockets and down his pants.

We ran outside and to the store, met by a few strange glances. Cindy stomped to me, fuming. Following close behind was Libby, happy to see Sheen. Cindy slapped me with a vengeance.

"Damnit Neutron! You embarrassed me so bad! In my pants! Ha, I wouldn't let you touch a hair on my body, even though I know you want to- Hey, get back here, I'm not finished with you!"

I continued my trek to the store, with Cindy running after me. I couldn't handle Vortex right now, but I did know that she'd have to come with me. I couldn't leave her behind, I just couldn't. We managed to get in, and I held my gun up high.

It was my craziest idea yet.

"This is a robbery! Get down!" I screamed, pointing the gun at several customers.

They all screamed and dropped to the floor. I only managed to grab a pack of water, a few candy bars and some big bags of chips before I heard more screams, this time coming from _outside _the store. I looked out the window, and saw a gigantic horde of the creatures, pus dripping from their faces, blood spilling from large bite marks in their sides. They advanced on the mass of people outside, biting them and eating them, ripping out their throats and feeding on their remains. Then they saw us. They looked at us with eyes that must have stopped seeing long ago, with eyes betraying only one purpose.

Hunger.

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**_A/N:_** I in no way own CNN or Jimmy Neutron. Or Night/Day of the Living Dead. Please R&R, and tell me how you think its going, future suggestions, and if I should switch to the third person. Also, in every future update, in the third chapter I will be responding to the reviews here. So that means the 3rd chapter, the 6th chapter, etc. 


	3. Military Uninvolment

_**We couldn't hold them off… They kept coming, coming in massive hordes that even cluster bombs couldn't destroy. We continued fire for a solid hour, but when one of our number was bit, we… we just… panicked. **_

_**-Soldier, New York City

* * *

**_

We stood there, stunned. We had no idea what to do. What would you do, with a horde of a thousand zombies, growing at an alarming rate? They must've been shocked too, because they completely disregarded us and continued their meal. Maybe they were on a diet?

It was then Carl burst through the doors, sweat pouring from his head. He must've been running from zombies somewhere else, because he had no shoes on, and he came from a completely different side of town.

"Guys- the…the… thingies came at me from the north. What are they?"

"Carl. This is not a good time to talk." Said Sheen through clenched teeth

"Why?"

"Do you notice the large group of zombies feasting on the flesh of our fallen comrades?"

I looked for a way out. There was no back door, and the walls were... Well they were brick. The only way out would be the front. We'd have to make a break for it, and run to my house. The roof might be the only way to stay out of reach.

"Nerdtron. We need a way out… do one of your brainstorm deals or whatever."

I went over the odds. The zombies were busy eating my friends, and they were, if anything, medium paced. At the most, they could speed walk. It was a long way to my house though, and unlike the zombies, we actually tired out.

"Okay guys, we're gonna go to my house. If we can get on top and lock the windows, the zombies can't reach us. We're going to have to find a way to get more food, but we'll have to manage for now. Make a break for it, and don't even look back. If one of us goes down… Well, we can't do much of anything."

Everyone nodded. They were about to risk their lives thanks to my wild idea, and I can't exactly say any of my ideas helped them in the past. We opened the door, and lunged out. Immediately, the zombies saw us. They stood in shock for a moment, pieces of flesh hanging from their teeth and blood drooling off their mouths. They overcome the first bit of shock, and jumped to action.

We were running faster then ever now, with the ghouls behind us. I could hear their fiendish moans, in their eyes we were just another food source. I looked behind me quickly, making sure everyone was there. Carl was just out of reach of the zombies, and one of the fiends grabbed Carl's shirt, pulling him into his reach. The zombie had a gleam of triumph on his eyes, reminding me that they once were human. The zombie was a fat policeman, sped up by the infection, oddly.

I hesitated and then pulled out a pistol from my pocket. It was loaded, and ready to shoot. I placed the sights on the zombie's chubby head, and fired a single shot. Instantly he crumpled to the ground, but another was coming up close behind. Sheen threw the pistols in his pockets to Cindy and Libby; Cindy took her place beside me. I felt oddly happy, knowing that the girl I loved was at my side.

Libby struggled a bit with the trigger. She didn't have the strength or the knowledge to know much about the gun, but Cindy was an expert shot. She beamed a zombie trying to sneak up on Carl, his brains splattering all over the unfortunate Carl.. Sheen had the shotgun out, quickly loaded it, and fired into the horde. Instantly, the line crumpled. He had aimed high; with one shot he'd killed many zombies, this time for good.

I got the bolt action rifle out and loaded it. I threw it to Cindy; she was obviously a better shot than me. She handed me the pistol, so now I was a dual pistol wielding maniac, of sorts. I continually fired into the crowd, dispersing it just enough for Carl to escape.

"Give Carl a head start! He needs to make it to the house. Keep firing then run!" I screamed over the noise.

I squeezed of a few more rounds and retreated myself. We were coming up on the house now, I could see the roof. Carl was already far ahead, opening the door and running up to my room. Finally we reached it, with the zombies not far behind. Sheen was straggling; he was firing more rounds into the crowd. I waited for him to get in, and I shut and locked the door.

We ran up the stairs to my room and jumped out of the window, onto the roof. Already they were getting inside the house through unlocked doors and windows. I locked the window to the roof and shut it. Zombies who had made it up the stairs were banging on the locked windows. We all pointed our weapons at them, ready to kill at a moments notice. They were moaning a kind of annoyed or angered moan; they still had basic emotions of a human.

So there we sat on my roof, with zombies all in the house and all around us. The zombie horde had gained people; you could see them for miles. And they were all around us.

"Great." Said Sheen, shouldering his shotgun. "They've made the place The Zombie HQ."

I still had my grimy denim backpack. It had food, but not much of it, and some ammo, perhaps 20 rounds for each of the rifles and shotguns, and perhaps 10 clips for every pistol. We had also managed to get a few long hunting knifes.

"How much food do we have?" asked Libby, in a feeble attempt to lighten things up.

I looked at our supply. We had 16 assorted candy bars, 3 jumbo sized bags of chips, hamburger meat, and a large pack of water bottles. I recounted the list to Libby.

"How long can we survive?" Asked Cindy glumly.

"10 days at most and that's on starvation rations. Looks like we need to find a way to get out of this mess."

Sheen mocked pointing a gun at his head and shooting.

The zombies moaned in response. They were still banging on the windows, and the taller ones were gripping at the edges of the house. Carl eyed them nervously, Carl himself still brushing the brains off of the poor zombie who had been killed by Cindy.

We needed to find shelter, and of course more food. Water was another necessity that we lacked greatly, and before we could do anything we needed to find some more. All I could see at the moment was a power line, the houses next to us, and of course, the zombies all around us.

I wasn't feeling to optimistic.

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**_A/N:_** Not many responses…. Meh, I'll wait till Chapter 6 to respond. Please R&R!!!! 


	4. Zombie Fodder

**_I've been a soldier for almost all of my adult life. I was trained and… you could say "raised" by the United States Marine Corp. I've killed my fair share of men, faced my own death on numerous occasions, and now I was scared, truly scared, of this frail eight year old child._**

_**Survivor, Battle of New York**_

I didn't really want to be in this… siege. No one would, of course. But hey, I don't have my throat ripped out, so I'm not complaining. Not that I could complain if I was a zombie, you get the idea.

I followed Jimmy to the roof, because he's smarter than me. I can't deny it. Studies show that… well, I don't really know, because I don't study the studies. That's Jimmy's job, naturally. I just followed orders. And by following orders, I pulled the job of killing zombies near the house. With a knife.

These knifes aren't _that_ bad, I guess. The knife was about a foot long, with no jagged edges, luckily. Jimmy said that it could get caught in their hand, or head, and I'd get pulled down. A nice, clean, swipe. That's what we were going for. Besides, I'm just chopping the hands off of curious zombies who get a little to close for comfort, and try to climb over the zombies on the ground. If I happened to get in combat with a zombie at my level, I'd have to stick it through the eye of the ghoul. Same principle, I guess.

Also at my disposal was a stick. Just a regular, oak wood, stick. Pushing the zombies off was the idea. I'm proud to say it was my idea, for once. I wanted to sharpen it, but then I had another wise burst of insight. A pointed edge would be no use to pushing them off, right?

Back to roof patrol, anyways. The others were slowly putting up a make-shift shelter, if it happened to rain of get cold. Jimmy was on the part of roof above his room, looking to the north, and at the same time, tinkering with the satellite. Maybe he wanted to make a radio, but how he could manage I had no idea. But that's Jimmy for you.

I had to patrol the roof with my stick and my knife. I was to chop off any of the hands of the undead slowly advancing toward us. If we cut off the hands, they at least couldn't climb or grab anymore. It also wasted no supplies, so we were at maximum efficiency. And at this point, anything that helped was welcome.

My first victim was a teenager I knew. She wore a pink shirt with "_G for Gangsta_" written in green on the shirt. She wore blue jeans and tennis shoes. Your regular teen, right? Sure, if you ignore the fact she was, you know, dead.

I looked at her hands, grasping the roof, struggling to get up to her food. She wore pink nail polish on her nails, all jagged and broken. I aimed my knife, and swiftly chopped off her hand, brown, sticky, liquid flowing from the wound. She was unfazed by this and used her other hand to continue her effort. I aimed the knife again, and chopped her other hand off. I used my stick to push her arm off the edge, and heard a satisfying thump as she landed on her comrades.

I called over Jimmy. I had no idea what to do with the hands, they weren't moving around like I expected them to, but instead stood still in the puddle of blood like liquid. I had heard they were really toxic, even smelling the things was supposed to hurt you. Touching it, or above all, eating it, could kill you.

"What is it, Sheen?"

I pointed at the decaying hand, right in front of me.

"Push it over, we can't risk health hazards. Also, Sheen, I've got a proposal for you."

I pushed it over the edge with my stick, leaving a trail of blood. It landed on the very girl whom they had been liberated from. There was no response from the ghoul.

"What kind of mission?"

"A well… suicide mission, of sorts. Listen, do you see that cable over there? They lead to every house in the neighborhood, and the power is off. It is completely safe to cross, except for, well the zombies. I want you to cross, quickly, with nothing but your pistol. Cindy will do the same, and we will follow up with rifles and shotguns. You need to hold the power line for Cindy as she crosses. After you have secured the area, you will proceed to a house and raid for supplies. After you get it, send in back in the basket."

"You make it seem so easy."

I agreed, and got prepared. We had to move quickly and dress lightly. I had no weapon but a pistol and a knife, and had to hold off any zombies on the house for 10 minutes, if I could make it there in the first place. I turned to Cindy.

"You ready for this crap?"

She looked me straight in the eye.

"You should know."


	5. Apprentice Looters

_**I flew over this huge line of cars. It was backed up for miles around, none knowing that just a mile back the ghouls were eating people in there cars. Ironically, the people running away were faster. They got eaten too, eventually.**_

_**Corporal John Lewbrowski, United States Air Force

* * *

**_

Finally, we were striking back. The zombies took us by surprise, coming out of nowhere, and just eating everyone. Sure, some rebels without a cause (And later without a life) picked up a pipe or something, maybe bent a few cold, dead, fingers, but in the end, they just swelled their ranks.

I guess we had some pride in being the first to strike back, in a real helpful way. By not starving to death, we were proving that the ghouls couldn't kill us, not for awhile. This was almost more of a propaganda mission than a raiding mission, and we treated it like one.

Sheen was going first on the cable. He was lighter and stronger than I was, and he could hold the line for me as I went across. He tucked in his shirt and folded up the bottoms of his jeans. If anything was hanging off, a zombie could grab it and pull him down, so precautionary measures were strict.

I suggested that he bring a pistol. It was lightweight, and as a .44 Magnum, it could easily penetrate a ghoul's head. You could also carry several clips in your pockets or in your shoes. We carried knifes, too. I didn't know what use they would be if we every got into close combat, but at least they were something.

Our main weapons, Sheen's shotgun and my bolt action, would be sent over in a backpack with our ammo, and another, larger one sent for all the food we could collect. I was hoping that we could maybe find an AK-47 or something, but chances were slim, of course.

Sheen was packed and ready; his pistol holstered and clips in his pockets. Jimmy walked over to us, looking nervous. He was sweating profusely, and his eyes scanned the horde of assorted ghouls.

"Okay guys, this is going to be the only thing to help us survive. If we can get this bit of food, it may gain us the three or four days that can be the three or four days we escape. What you're looking for are non-perishables and water. Aim for bread, chips, cheese, cereal, and canned foods, anything that won't spoil quickly. Only get a little fruit and meat, we'll eat it first and save the rest. Get as much water, wine, soda, anything that you can drink as you can manage. Get in, get out, and don't die on me, okay?"

I thought Sheen was going to say some deep philosophical statement, but instead he said something dumb.

"Wait; if we die won't you guys just have fewer mouths to feed? I volunteer Carl then; I bet the zombies would thank us or something!"

Jimmy frowned at him, and turned to me. He grabbed my hand with a steel grip, and dragged me to the shelter.

I guess you couldn't exactly call this thing a "shelter" at all. It was more like a bunch of jackets hanging from the chimney to and upraised stick. The most it could do was keep out the rain and warm us up if we huddled together. But anyways, he dragged me in, and looked at me.

"Hey Cindy… Don't die out there, please? Get Sheen to keep his head… and, well… you're an asset to the group, okay? We need you, really."

He kissed me sheepishly on the cheek and hurried out. I was shocked, really shocked. I touched the place on my cheek where he brushed his lips against my face. After what he'd said yesterday, and on numerous other occasions, I was totally sure he didn't like me, and I thought I didn't like him. I'd have to think about that, after this was through.

Sheen was gripping the line, having already kissed Libby goodbye. He turned around and smiled at me.

"You don't need to repopulate the human race _yet_ Cindy!"

I scowled at him.

"Get going, would you? You'll be sorry when I won't cover you."

He smiled again and got going.

He started out nice, actually. He was maybe 8 feet above them, and he was careful to stay quiet. And then they all looked up at almost the same time, all staring straight at Sheen. One particularly tall man darted his hand upwards, grabbing Sheen's foot.

One of Sheen's hands slipped, and he was left swinging. He screamed and twisted his foot upwards, then downwards, breaking the ghoul's arm, yellowed bone going through his skin. The man disregarded this and continued trying to pull him down.

I dove for my bolt action. It was unloaded; I grabbed a clip from the backpack and pulled back the lever, sticking in the five round clip. I put the zombie's rotted head in my sights, and fired. His head immediately blew up, brains flying everywhere. His grip loosened and he fell to the ground. Sheen regained his grip and continued onwards.

He got out his pistol, aiming for something I couldn't see. He fired once, and a thump was heard. The house was infested. He couldn't hold the line for me, so I had to go on without help.

I grabbed the line, and put my other hand in front. The line immediately drooped close to the horde. I desperately kicked about, hitting several ghouls in the process. I was grabbed too, and screamed. The zombies grip was hard, harder than Jimmy's. It was cold, like iron, and his hand stained my ankle with brown blood. I reached for my knife, and thrust it inside the head of the man. I got it out again, and was almost dragged down myself when the zombie fell. I made my way to Sheen.

He was still fighting off zombies, a pile of 3 already in front of him. He was covered with the brown blood of his victims, his knife in one hand and the pistol in another. He must of known I was there, because he screamed "Cover me!" when he ran out of ammo. I took my .22 Rimfire pistol, able to go into a head and ricochet around, destroying most of the brain. It was great for zombie killing, then.

My first target rushed me. He was foreign, it seemed. In his hand was a weak, Russian manufactured, pistol. He must have died fighting. He had a finger in his mouth, and quickly swallowed it as he dived for me. He was Mr. Kalanklovosh, a foreigner from Ukraine. He housed many of the illegal aliens, and some other legal immigrants, like Bolbi.

I unsheathed my knife as he ran for me. Sheen's pistol was loaded now, and he aimed for the zombies behind me. Several shots rang out, as Jimmy aimed and fired with the rifle before he sent them over. The backpacks slid across the line unmolested, and stopped at the place where the cable met the house.

The ghoul finally got near me, and tackled me. The things were stronger than you would expect a rotting corpse to be. He leaned down to bite me; I punched his face away from me. I thrust my knife upwards into his head, but it didn't reach the brain. He leaned down again, biting off a piece of my jacket. I grabbed his bald head with one hand, thrusting the knife farther upwards with another. He slumped to the ground as rotted brains fell to the ground.

I pulled out my pistol and aimed for the nearest ghoul. She was deeply tan, with her hair pulled up in a bun. She wore what looked like an ancestral dress, with only one slight rip where she had been bit. She must have been bit by one, returned to home with all the other foreigners, and reanimated at home, biting all of them.

I pulled the trigger, placing my sights on her head. My shot rang out, hitting her in the eye and ricocheting inside. The bullet basically destroyed her brain, and she fell to the ground.

"Cindy!" Yelled Sheen to me, holding up my rifle.

I rushed over and grabbed it. It had 3 rounds in the clip left, from when I fired and Jimmy fired. This would be perfect for an ambush, if we could draw some of them over, Sheen could fire a quick volley and we could invade. I would pick off the stragglers in the back.

"Sheen! Call them over here, wait until they're close, and then fire two shot into their heads! I'll advance to the window!"

He nodded and started banging his rifle against the roof and singing. I mean, like hard core Iron Maiden. He was singing The Trooper! Once he got to "You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through" the zombies were all around him. I sneaked up to the window, opened it, and turned back around. I fired a shot into the head of one zombie, making it fall backwards. Sheen fired a shot into the crowd, instantly many of its number fell. He fired another burst into the crowd, killing or immobilizing any zombies in its path. I immediately bashed in the heads of any zombies whose head had been blown off, they were still snapping at us. We pushed their corpses off of the roof, angered moans coming from the zombies crushed by the downpour of bodies.

Once we made sure the roof wasn't infested, we continued through the window into the room.

It was a bedroom, a rather small one that had many cots. Maybe 30 or 40 people passed through everyday, many staying the night. On one of the cots you could here a soft moaning, as if it was a child. I went to the cot to investigate.

I was repulsed. It was a small child, tied down to the bed with a rag stuffed in her mouth. A single bit mark was on her arm, and she was struggling to get free. She must have reanimated while she was there. I had a small cousin, was she caught up in this? Were my parents-perhaps my entire family- walking the Earth as a ghoul?

Sheen walked up, his knife raised high. He had a look of pity on his face, but you could see the gleam in his eyes as he said "Hasta la vista, zombie." And plunged the knife into her frontal lobe. She stopped moaning then, the crazy bastard.

We advanced down the stairs to the kitchen. A man was leaning backwards on the table, a carbine gripped in his hand. Brains were spilled out everywhere, and several zombies with holes in their heads were grouped around him. He had a deep gash on his body; he'd obviously chosen to take the easy way out. I took the carbine away from him, along with a satchel filled with ammo. I took apart the carbine and placed it in the pack. I could take it along, easily.

We looked in the cabinets. We found many cans of corn, peaches, ravioli, and various other foods. We grabbed all of them. In another cabinet was several loafs of large, French bread, along with regular sliced white bread. We put all of them inside the backpack too, taking them apart to save room.

Inside the fridge were several lunchmeats and fruits. We put the lunchmeat in our pockets, and a few pieces of fruit in the satchel. There was water, lots of water. They were all in large packs, so we took out the water and stuffed them in the backpack. We had tons of food.

I raided the drawers for medical supplies. All I could find was some bandages and a rudimentary first aid kit. I stuck both in the satchel. Now, we were ready to leave with the huge cache of food we collected.

We went back out the window, put our main weapons inside the second backpack, and sent them both flying to Jimmy. He had been waiting and watching for the 45 minutes we had been in there, and he looked relieved to finally see us.

I sent the satchel over when we first began to see several zombies come out of the windows. Down below, zombies were shuffling into the house. They had discovered us, and were now packing the house, trying to get a bite out of us.

"Sheen! Go!"

He handed me his pistol and started to the house.

I fired the .22 at the first zombie that advanced through the window. She fell dead, back into the crowd. I shot the .44 into the next ghoul, blowing off its head. I fired twice more into the crowd, and now Jimmy and Sheen were picking off the monsters on the other side. I stuck the .44 in the holster, the .22 in my pocket. The line was swaying, both from the wind and from the hundreds of zombies shaking the line. I was almost swung upside down, but I steadied myself and swayed slightly to the left. I was close to the house, but I was only hanging on by the tips of my fingers. I felt myself slip, and my hands gripping at air.

_This is it._

I then felt the reassuring grip of Jimmy, and found I was on the roof. I opened my eyes, and looked at Jimmy.

"Did we do it?"

He smiled and said

"Of course."

I was almost sure I loved him now.

* * *

**_A/N:_** Sorry for not updating much lately, I was caught up in the Festivus stupor. I'm sure I'm forgiven with this long, exciting chapter. Or at least you better be, you vultures. Oh, and I'd like to thank acosta, for the whole "Hasta la vista, zombie!" line. Brilliant! 


	6. Situation Normal: All Fucked Up

**_Two hundred million zombies, for the United States alone. All the data we compiled, strengths, weaknesses, physiology, mentality. All the countless folders of data- And they still presented us with a rather gloomy prospect for victory._**

_**-Researcher, Hall of Science and Research

* * *

**_

When I first saw them come back, my gut reaction was "All right!" But then more horrible thoughts came over me. Would that surprise anyone? I thought about the possibility of poisoning, of course. I still didn't know if the ghouls just being around food infected it, and we still didn't know if the virus was airborne, so yeah, I think I had reason to worry.

Cindy came after Sheen, bloody knife hastily stuck in her shoe and the brown blood of ghouls splattered across her face. She looked triumphant, but at the same time, looked like she was about to faint. They had been gone for close to an hour; most of it spent battling the zombies within the house.

Carl rushed over to the food, being the pig he was. He greedily poured out the backpack, revealing the bounty of food the looters received. Thankfully he didn't eat it, but I'm sure more than one of us was crazed for food enough that we would've pistol whipped him. Well, at least I hoped.

The wind picked up, so we headed towards our makeshift shelter. Like I said before, it wasn't much of a shelter, but yeah, it protected us from the wind. Libby had made it pretty much solo, and so she was always sitting in there, improving it and whispering songs to herself. I guess she thought she was grand diva of the tent, or something.

"Umm, hey Libby. Okay if we come in?"

Libby nodded; not looking up until Sheen spilled the contents of the bag on the covered chimney, now serving as a table of sorts. She had heard about the raid, but wasn't really concerned about it. I think she blocked out a lot during our time on the roof.

"I call a meeting."

The assorted members of the community came forth, gripping their, well, assorted weapons. Carl was content with a pistol, he couldn't handle the others. Sheen had his trademark shotgun at his side, as always loaded with buckshot that he protected like a child. He had good reason, of course. Cindy, the sharpshooter of the group, carrying the rifle. She had already asked me to make a scope for her somehow, the only real option that I had was a piece of glass. Rather inadequate, don't you think?

We settled down, laying on whatever scraps of cloth we had managed to salvage from Libby, whom used the cloth to make our shelter. Our food bowls, holes in the roof that we had scraped out, were sitting before us, filled with small amounts of uncooked ravioli and the small piece of bread I had allowed them. Cindy spoke up first.

"Okay, listen. We've got food, we've got weapons. I say we get the hell out of here. You know what the point of this is? There isn't one. We're just gonna sit here, wait for our deaths. I might as well jump into their mouths right-"

At that instant a shell slammed right into our house, exploding instantly. The feeble roof sloped over almost immediately, allowing the zombies to simply take a gentle stroll up the roof to their prey. Cindy, whom, ironically, was currently about to fall into the hands of the ghouls beneath, screamed and asked for us to help. I grasped her hand and pulled her upwards, feeling the sweat on her hands. I'm sure she felt mine; I was as scared as she was.

In the meantime Sheen had pulled out his pistol, killing the individual zombies that happened to walk up. After each moan, another zombie came, and after theirs, two. It proved a deadly way to get zombies on your case.

I had no idea what happened. A random shell had just slammed into the side of my house! Whoever done it needed to stop throwing around his shit and get his act together, because I couldn't hold off the ever increasing flow of zombies coming from Mexico and the rest of the U.S.! Luckily, the next thing I saw was a soldier clad in a gas mask.

I screamed for Cindy to get on the highest part of the roof, so she could snipe the zombies without fear of being eaten. I positioned my self near her with the M1 Carbine, it could harm at a medium distance, but it wasn't exactly the best when you were up close to the enemy. Sheen, being the Rambo, was up front, knife in one hand, shotgun in another. Behind him were Carl and Libby, each with a pistol. Their basic job was to kill zombies near Sheen, so he could get that one, devastating blast and kill a whole row of the things.

The flow of the soldiers kept steady. At the same time, however, the flow of zombies was all the steadier. Their tanks were firing into the crowd, doing nothing but hacking off an arm or two. It was useless, however, as the zombies could still move, and still eat you. Only maybe one out of every 1,000 zombie was falling, because those shells did shit against a zombie! You have no idea how frustrating it is.

Also, the soldiers were having the same effect. They had automatic weapons, hard to aim and therefore, hard to hit the moving zombie in the head. And once the zombies got to their lines, it was carnage. Zombies were ripping through the radiation resistant (Obviously not zombie resistant) plastic, eating the occupants of the suits with relish. The new Land Warrior system was no help for morale, as every soldier could see his comrade being ripped to shreds, and knew that that too, would be his fate.

On the remains of the roof, the battle was raging ever more. Cindy fired at a zombie ready to bite Sheen as he fought with Sheen ignoring the blood splatter on his neck. I fired near the back of the crowd, the decayed zombie I shot at gaining a new hole in his head, allowing me to see back to the zombie behind him. Sheen was in the most chaotic situation, as he stabbed a zombie in the head another jumped from behind that one, he pushed it back with one mighty kick. He pointed his shotgun into the crowd, and with a look of triumph on his face, fired a single shot, an entire row of zombies falling back.

Libby was in a dangerous situation, however. A zombie jumped on her, her pistol falling out of reach. She punched the zombie, its head reeling back before he bit her. Carl, in a surprising feat of strength, kicked the zombies head off, neck tissue spilling all around, and fired shot into the still moaning head.

The soldiers were rapidly retreating. Tanks hatches slammed shut, and people tore off all their armor in order to run faster. Brave sappers left C4 charges to explode once the zombies came near, and still braver men stood behind to cover the retreat with guns blazing. It was pretty nice y'know? It was actually kind of quiet, we and all those bodies surrounding us. I mean, or house was completely surrounded with bodies, check out one of those action movies and you'll know what I mean.

All the silence was interrupted, however, when four jets flew overhead, each dropping a single, large, bomb. I stood there in total awe, watching them sail right at us. The next thing I saw was a zombie about to grab for me, until he was swept away in a gust of air. I could barely get out "Oh shit."As I was lifted from my feet, and sailed onwards…


	7. Rules of Engagment

_**The first zombie I saw? The first goddamn, motherfucking, stinking ass zombie I saw? The first zombie I saw was my mother, and after that, my family…**_

_**Survivor- Richmond, Virginia.

* * *

**_

I first saw this little dry patch of dirt called Retroville from five miles away. I remember it vividly; we had just advanced up a hill that gave us a perfect view of this town. Shit, should I call it that? Should I even consider this a city, devoid of human life? But hell, whatever the fuck it was, I was there.

I know that Retroville is up there with, like, Iwo Jima and those types of battles. Hell, not even Iwo Jima could counter this. We knew what we were facing at Iwo. We knew where they were, what their weaknesses were, and all that jazz! None of this at Retroville. We didn't know if they were fast ones, slow ones, fuck you up the ass ones, hell, we didn't know if they could die…

So anyways, we were driving towards it when we saw our first ghoul, down in the city below us. It was a noob; it had just recently been bitten. You have to understand the zombie mind, well, lack thereof of mind. I'm no expert, but this is how I got it. A zombie spots you, okay? I don't know how they 'see', smell, hearing, but he spots you. As soon as it does that, a moan escapes his throat. That attracts another ghoul, who in turn moans, which in turn attracts two more… It goes on and on, until we have the entire USA knocking on our front door!

So after it had attracted maybe fifty zombies, our commanders ordered the tread jobs, you know, the useless tanks that we used to worship, to fire. They let loose most of their shells onto the zombies. I ask you, what the hell is a depleted uranium shell going to do the living dead? Did they even think that an armor piercing bullet wouldn't even damage something that couldn't feel pain? I remember the little voice in my head, beginning to whisper, "Oh shit."

The voice momentarily went away when the rockets and arty fired. I mean, shit, you should have seen it! It was like the entire world had decided that Retroville was the place to... I don't know, make a stand? Hundreds, thousands, of different kinds of rockets just flooded the skies. And when they hit…

I'd say about ¾ of the near thousand zombies died, I mean, the ones just in front of us. Not the girth of the southwestern United States that remained in Retroville, just the damn thousand people in front of us. That's when we should have been scared. That's when the little voices in our head should have been saying, "Get the hell outta here!"

Ghouls are pretty weird. I mean, being dead and coming back to life is weird in itself, but their physiology and biology, it's freaky. When a bomb hits, it spreads steel rain. Just, you know, shrapnel, bits of metal. I sat there and watched it shred organs and cut off legs, but the zombies shielded each other! One died at potential killing of many!

You know what else happens when a bomb lands near something? Balloon effect. When a sudden explosive fore hits near you it ripples with force, just blowing up all the water inside of you. Why it didn't happen with zombies… Another thing, Sudden Nerve Trauma, was supposed to happen. It's like… God flicking off your light switch. Your brain just shuts off. Was it because a zombies brain was dead already?

Soon the fire kind of petered out, withered away…

They tell us about supply routes, weapons in short supply. Don't bullshit me. The only thing in 'short supply' was common fucking sense! They never thought to stop and ask themselves, "Hey, we got some fancy fucking weapons; we got enough shit for them to shoot?" They tried to bullshit the zombies. Like the Gulf war, they called round one 'Shock and awe.' They wanted that one propaganda smackdown, you know? What do we do when the enemy won't be shocked and awed? Not just unwilling, I mean physically CAN'T? What then?

1/10 of us were expected to fire a weapon. 1/3 were expected to score a kill. I mean, you're expecting for this to be a cakewalk, after that firestorm, but now you're thrust into battle. Thrust into battle with a shitty uniform, too.

This uniform seems like it is designed to restrict mobility and sight. It weighs you down so much, that running away from a turtle is potentially dangerous. I swear I didn't hear the rockets fly past my ear. Could it be because of the friggin lead hood? And you know what else? It wasn't designed to protect. It was designed to filter air. Jesus H. Christ, I know.

And don't get me started on Land Warrior. Land Warrior was the new thing back then. It gave us each a link up with whatever we wanted- a persons rifle camera, the commander, you know. But goddamnit, when I saw the spybird uplink's photo's of the massive horde in front of us- Fuck, I didn't need to see that.

I remember one instance the most. A man who was in one of the buildings, looking for something, found a zombified family. His rifle camera was in such a good view, right on the action. He struggled with the mom, shooting her in the arm with his pistol, but then the kids came and started ripping his lips off. The dad came and bit off a piece of his cheek.

That's when the voice in my head got loud. "Oh shit… OH SHIT!" I was a rifleman; I had an M-14 rifle. You're supposed to fire, breath, fire, breath- I was too busy shitting myself to care, I just set it on automatic and fired away. We didn't know what to do. I soon realized that the voice in my head wasn't in my head anymore. Every time somebody panicked and screamed his shit off into his headset, everybody there heard him.

And then all the rumors and stuff… Y'know. "I hit him in the head and he didn't die!" He probably just missed the brain, but shit, it caused a panic. "What?" "They're invincible?" "Oh shit!" "Can they run?"

And then some Air Force general with an atomic errection decided to drop the bomb. A thermobaric nuclear bomb, to be exact. It wasn't really nuclear, but damn… First, it releases a huge ass fireball that just keeps expanding. Then, if you survived that-They'll NEVER admit this- it rips the windbags right out of you. And since a zombie doesn't need to breathe, what does it do? Only kills the few thousand, the ones in the initial explosion.

I remember jumping in the tank and getting tossed around like a hot wheel. I remember coming to with a bullet wound in my shoulder. But most of all, I remember looking back. Back to Retroville… Back to our last chance. I turned my back on victory.

* * *

Sorry for the long update. Oh, here's a link to what they wore, for reference. http://en. if you wish to be included in the story as a survivors narrative in a chapter, please tell me. I'd be happy to allow you. Just email me at 


	8. Ghoul Theft Auto

_**These apes beat their chests about every aspect of the war… "Jungle warfare!" "Desert fighting!" "Tundra!" And most of all, city warfare. Oh, how they loved city fighting. You think city fighting is hard? Try underneath one. When the ghouls moan bounces across narrow hallways and screams fade in the background, it's no wonder to me they all got Victoria's Crosses…**_

_**-Soldier, 4**__**th**__** 'Sewer Rats' Division, London.

* * *

**_

I don't know what the hell happened, really. I was struggling with some zombie, a guy with half his head hanging out, when he lunged for me and missed. I stomped his head in, being pissed because now I had zombie organs all over me. The shit stinks. Then I noticed his displaced brain fragments began to stir a little. Now, most people's obvious reaction would be horror and shock, but before that set in a more… Immediate matter concerned me. _I_ was starting to stir.

I struggled for a second. It wasn't easy. I was on the collapsed part of a roof, which also made a convenient ramp for any casual corpse to stroll on up. Naturally, the Hispanic dude with the shotgun gets to defend it. What's with that in horror movies? It's more clichéd than a black guy who suddenly is the expert on zombies despite that fact that he was a regular Joe an hour before!

But I digress. Since I was on the ramp and trying to get back to the roof, and because the power of the explosion was going my way, I was (literally) fighting an uphill battle. I heard some screams and then just, WHOOF, and flew backwards. My shotgun was blown to shit (the recovery effort is still ongoing) and desperately started swinging my hands around, as if a vine would fly from the sky. Too bad.

Sadly, the one thing I could think about was: _Weeee!_

I screamed aloud as I hit a tree. It was only my arm that hit it, but going at fifty miles per hour at it wasn't helping anything. I heard a tremendous snap and blood just began pouring out of me. Next, another snap, a door. I had just slammed through a damn _door!_ Then, to top it all, I went rolling down a staircase, until settling at the base of it, all curled up in a ball and blood pooling around me.

Then, the firestorm came. It swept over me; I could just feel that hot air burning of my eyebrows. That explains a lot for now, I guess. The building collapsed on me. _What bones in my body aren't broken? _I blacked out, maybe for a half hour. I woke up next to an axe-murderer… Err, zombie.

_I can't handle a committed relationship!_

There was no gun on me, that was for sure. I regret not taking a pistol when I had the chance, now. I had to turn over my trusty .44 to Carl. Oh yeah, he did a lot with that… But I _did_ have my knife on me. I reached down to the sheath at my shoe, pulling out the stained blade. Ghoul blood is brown, so… I guess the closest metaphor (Thanks, Jimmy!) would be it shone dirt brown? Whatever. I thrust it through the eye of my bride, smiling as the eye popped.

I examined the situation. Tons of dirt and various pieces of debris were all over me, not to mention me being about to faint from blood loss. Quickly, I loosed a leg and pushed the other out, until I finally got up and went out the lack of door.

Devastation, really. A huge crater was now Downtown. The Candy Bar, Retroland, all of it was gone. At what cost? It didn't look like much, as downtown only took up about 1/5 of Retroville. As I was busy swearing vengeance for the destruction of the Candy Bar, something just… Popped up. It was completely burnt, just black, like a well done prime rib. I could smell death on his face, and bite marks were visible. He was just between zombification and living. His nails grabbed my hip, leaving marks in the torn rags. Then, he died. Just dropped dead, right there. I ran away. This shit wasn't a game.

Another surprise. A hatch popped open in an abandoned humvee, revealing a lone arm. It was burnt and charred, but most of all… Bitten. One of them was infected, until a whole squad's worth of soldiers had died. The zombie soldier jumped out, or at least rolled out. I was, for the first time, glad to see a zombie. He had an M-16. AN M-16, DAMNIT! I was so damn gleeful; I threw my knife at him. It dropped to the ground. Goddamn my one brain cell.

My only choice was hand to hand combat. I bull rushed that damn ghoul, tackling him to the asphalt. Now, with anyone else, especially one who wasn't dead, I would have started punching him. With a zombie, you have to go for the brain. So, I rolled him over on his face, and screaming some high pitched kung-fu battle cry, stuck my hand through his head, grabbed his brain stem, and pulled it all out. SHEEN CHAN!

With his M-16 in hand, I advanced on the humvee. I guess the zombies had better ideas. One of them tackled _me_ to the ground, reeling back for the bite. Continuing my sudden kung-fu fetish, I rolled on my back, stuck the gun between my legs, and blew his brains out, literally, all over me. The second time in a period of two hours. Damnnit.

I again made my way back toward the vehicle. This time, I shot first and asked questions later. All of the zombies were killed, and their weapons still useful. I had plans for this humvee, the machinegun on top, and the weapons inside them. Turning the keys and revving the engine, I started out back to the house, to help whoever was left.


	9. Cripple Race

_**Maybe it was the thought of death… Maybe it was the stench, the sound of their moan… Maybe it was the way they looked… Maybe **it** was zombies.**_

_**Journal, Unknown.

* * *

**_

I was nobody to them. I wasn't the sheer fury that was Sheen, not the brain of Jimmy, not the pure cleverness that was Cindy. I had done nothing, really. I'd kept to the shadows, stayed in my tent on the roof slowly starving to death. Depressed is what I was. My family, my friends, my… my…life! It was gone! Did nobody else feel that? Did they feel _anything?_ They were zombie-killing machines, nothing more. Libby had to prove herself.

I didn't know if I'd ever prove myself. The second the Army came, they seemed destined for failure. Too many spent rounds with no effect. Too many deaths. Dropping that… whatever it was seemed like a last ditch effort. Either way, I was thrown off into a pool of destiny. I was standing on about the highest place you could get, short of getting on the roof, about the edge. Having just got done with my struggle with the zombie, I was too weak to do anything but stare as the gust from the bomb flew at us.

It was the scariest experience of my life. Having tons of ghouls crowded around your house, _as you were falling off_, was unimaginable. What kind of effect would falling directly into a shitload of zombies do to you? Nothing but a bloody mess, maybe a few bones. As I was thrown off, my nails desperately grabbed the roof. My nails were torn off into oblivion. Funny, still thinking womanly thoughts even when zombie apocalypse was knocking at my door. I'm such a girl. Tee- hee.

After my futile effort to save myself, I looked ahead. I saw this huge, brown mass just sailing at me god-knows-how-fast. In reality (or whatever confused perception I had of it then) _I_ was sailing at _it_. I couldn't do anything short of raising my hands, in some pointless effort of saving my eyes. Yeah right. Like my hands would help. Either way, I had failed to realize that my _legs_ were flying just as fast as I was.

I hit the tree at top speed. My ankle had just completely broken, and my foot was turned nearly sideways. The rest of me was hanging from a branch, which I had grabbed. I desperately tried to lift myself up, cursing my lack of muscle. Those pounds from the junk I always at were beginning to reveal themselves, with a vengeance. Then I felt something- a bite.

I froze up, feeling the after affect of the bite. My shoe! He had bitten my shoe! Luckily, it was a leather shoe. He couldn't bite through it. He was simply gumming it. No matter how much of a lucky call it was, it was still close. If the thing had just a few more teeth, or if my shoe had been soft enough to bite through, well… I wouldn't be talking to you or to anyone. Unless you counted my moaning.

I used the zombie's head as a spring, jumping into the tree. The ghouls were finally beginning to swarm me. It was a good thing the tree didn't have any kind of angle, or else they could have easily angled up to me. After settling down, I checked myself. I still had my pistol, a .22 Rimfire, and my iPod. It didn't work of course, the battery had long run out. The pistol was pretty short of ammo, only three more ten round clips were left, There was more then thirty zombies who had swarmed me, though, and there was no way I could score a headshot on any big amount of them.

I actually about cried. It was hopeless! Life was hopeless! If I fell, I'd break more and couldn't run at all. I'd get bitten if fell near any, most likely. So I was dead. I had no food on me. I raised the pistol to my head- but then I stopped. I realized I had a chance. I could slide down the tree, and take off. If anything, I could find a house that wasn't destroyed. My ankle wasn't a weight bearing bone. I couldn't run, though… A smile came to my lips. _Neither could they!_

My plan was beginning. There was a zombie on my way down, and a few in the path I had chosen, the one with the fewest ghouls. I stuck my good foot in front of my bad one, if anything it could serve as a brake. I began to slide, grimacing as my ankle started to ache. One shot. One kill. I jumped the last few feet down, shooting a zombie in my way. She fell over to the side, useless. Not that she wasn't useless before, of course.

My journey had begun. The ghouls, in accordance, raced, or at least what one would consider racing for a dead person, off into no general direction. I moved a little faster than them, luckily. Still, it must have been amusing, this frantic race of cripples.

Just when I was beginning to fell pain in my legs, I heard something. Not the usual groan of the zombies, something different… Something mechanical. A rumble, a rumble like a… _car._

An army humvee came flying in, running over several corpses in the process. In the mirror I could see Sheen, my savior. He grabbed my hand, throwing me into the back seat. The first thing I noticed, or rather smelled, was the dead zombies sitting next to me. Then I noticed the machine guns and rifles. I smiled. Sheen had jacked a car, the crazy bastard.

He looked back at me, giving the best smile a man covered in brains and blood could give.

"Anybody order takeout?"

That was my Sheen.


	10. My Life as a Teenage Zombie

_**A/N: Oh no. BONUS for today! A reader request and our regular tale. Enjoy… Remember, the bonus feature is in an interview fashion, with italics being the interview, ala **__World War Z __**which I really recommend!**_

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_Heights Highschool  
Corydon, Indiana_

_July 18__th__, 2014_

_[John Arbuckle lights up a cigarette, a near luxury after the war, and shakes his head at the ruins of his High School, which, as the interview is conducted, is being torn down by construction crews. This site, Iroquois Heights High School, is a sentimental place for John. This is where his war started.  
_  
_So, this is it?  
_  
Yeah. Hell of a place to die, huh? If that's what you can call it, anyway. I didn't die, shit. Else I'd be moanin' and groanin' like one of them, obviously.

_How did the zombies make it this far, anyway? Wasn't some kind of warning system in place? I thought the virus originated further south.  
_  
Are you joking? Look around you, man. This is Shitville. I guess the school had phones, sure, but remember, zombies were friggin moving, ya know? Hardly anyone knew, or we wouldn't even have been in school. It had to be the hospital just down the block_**[he gestures down the road, to a hospital that is no longer there**_ since the…ghouls, were in those toga-things they make you wear, where your ass shows and the nurses giggle and you feel like a dumbass. You know, right?

I can't even imagine being the poor kid who first saw them. What would I have done, man? Musta thought they were, like, burn victims or some shit. I know I would have. That or they had been mauled or something. I feel like shit for saying this, but thank God it wasn't me. Yeah. Thank God, man… But can I even believe in God after this? Dunno man, dunno.

_When did everyone realize what was going on, and how did they react?_

Heh. You gotta be kidding. Shit, I dunno…when the "burn victims" started fucking eating people? But, uh, seriously, I guess…I remember some guy running past the class I was in – chemistry lab, we were combining some foul-smelling crap, but at least we got to play with fire – and he was just covered in blood, screaming his lungs out, "They ate him, for fuck's sake! They fucking ate him!"

One of the counselors walking through the halls, this buff black guy, about 5'10", real likeable, just tackles this kid and brings him right down, thinking this is some kind of sick prank or something. It'd almost be funny…almost. That is, if the kid wasn't being followed by like five fucking zombies.

_You saw this happening?_

Yeah. When I heard the screaming, I was coming out of the bathroom, and the kid was way at the other end of the hall, coming my way. Got intercepted halfway there, and I watched them coming, the first zombie I ever saw. Of course, at the time, I didn't know what to think, but, looking back on it, it's fucking terrifying.

Anyway, my first instinct is "Jesus fucking Christ, run!" And I guess that's why I lived. I know it's probably a horrible thing to say – maybe I should have tried to help, been some kind of a hero, or something – but if I'd done anything stupid, there wouldn't be much of anyone left to tell you this story.

So I run out of the school, since my class is right by the door that leads out to the parking lot, and my heart is pounding like God knows what. I guess that's what I get for not playing any sports or whatever, but I was in full-on survival mode, dude. And what really sticks out to me is that I had no idea why. To all appearances, my life wasn't in danger. I guess it's like dogs, you know? They have that zombie-sense or whatever; they can tell when Senor Zombie is in town, and start going apeshit. I ran like crazy until I got to my car – early-decade European coupe, my pride and joy – and only then did I look back. It was…hell. That's the only way I can describe it.

_What was happening?_

The things were pouring in. For him, it was lunchtime. Kids were pouring out, running and screaming. Some were trying to wrestle with some dead, and others, the hardcore kids, had knives that they were using to try to ward off ghouls. Lotta fuckin' good that did 'em. I must have zoned out, or something, because next thing I know, some zombies coming for me. Guess I made a pretty appetizing target in those years. Anyway, I realize I'm about a minute away from being lunchmeat, and start trying to get into my car. It was like in the fuckin' horror movies; had a case of the shakes so bad I had to guide the key into the lock with two fingers. Never bothered with those damned keyless unlock key chain whatever-the-hells. Anyway, I jump in, lock the doors, put the key in, turn her on, put my glasses on, and take off my shoe…

_Why did you take off your shoe?_

Hah, funny you mention it. My friends gave me shit about it, actually. I took off my shoe because I couldn't feel the pedals otherwise. I'd only been driving for about two months, mind you, and I was cautious. Been rear-ended once already, and didn't want to return the favor or anything. Now that you bring that up, I guess it's funny I remembered. In the middle of that huge shitstorm, I remembered that. Hah. Hell of a kid, I was.

Where was I, again?

_Taking off your shoe, car started, glasses, et cetera._

Ah, right, right. Yeah. I throw her in reverse just as the radio comes on, and it's "Shortest Straw", by Metallica. The good old days, man. I was maybe, like, two, when the album came out. It was destiny, I guess. The song fit what everyone else was going through.

I turn around and back her out at like 30 miles an hour, slam the brakes, put her in drive, and just fuckin' book it. I tear ass for about a mile and a half, when I pass my neighborhood. Nice, affluent, upscale neighborhood. Cold, though. Neighbors didn't wave much, and their fuckin' kids would just stand out in the middle of the street, for no fuckin' reason at all.

_**[John goes quiet for a moment; his eyes lose focus. He talks quietly now.**_

I guess…I guess I shouldn't talk about 'em like that. Just kids, man. Enjoying life, and all that. And now…gone. Damn. Whatever – not worth being upset over. Not my fault.

_**[John takes another drag from his cigarette, and regains his confidence.**_

Where was I? Ah, right – the neighborhood. Positively swarming with Zs. I turn in anyway, and just floor it. I try to avoid them, but it's just not possible, since they're coming right for me. Eventually, it stops mattering, when I've got enough momentum built up. Ever seen a zombie hit by a car at 60 miles an hour?

_**[I shake my head.**_

Tears 'em in half. At this point, though, I'm beyond caring. I've got my parents and my sister to worry about. I pull up in my driveway, and my house is on fucking fire. Even to this day, I've got no idea why. I don't stay long, except to open the garage and see that the car isn't there. That's all I need to know. I run to the fridge we've got in the garage and start chucking stuff into my backpack – it was empty, since the school year was almost over – which makes it clear now that I wasn't thinking straight.

_What do you mean? You've gotta have serious presence of mind to collect supplies when you know ghouls are about, and you're not even armed…_

Who the hell said anything about supplies? I was stuffing frozen food, wine, mineral water, energy drinks, whatever, into that backpack. Of course, that's all we kept in the outside fridge, but still. It's not much.

So anyway, I throw the backpack into the car, hop in, and get moving again. I'm halfway down the driveway when I hear barking. I look over and see my dog, like five feet away from some Zombie. It's one of my neighbors. Nice enough lady, I guess, but like most middle-class suburban housewives, she was already sort of a zombie. Damn, now I feel bad. Fuck it. You know the type, dude. Boring-ass life, slave to fashion, played tennis. Just waiting to die, I guess. Or maybe travel the world, and then die. Depends on how their mutual funds turned out, or whatever.

Whatever. I guess that sorta lost coherence, but you know what I mean. That's how I thought; that's who I was, back in high school. I hated that, that nine-to-five lifestyle, not giving a fuck about anyone else's problems, just living for yourself, pretending to be Christian, all that shit.

Wow, did I just go on another huge tangent? Let's see…useless housewife, zombie…my house…ah, right – my dog. I hit the brakes, and open the door and just shout some gibberish: "Ayyyy! Heeyyy!" Dog runs right in.

I lock the doors, back out, put 'er in drive, and once again, we're in business. Dog is going nuts, though, in the back, running around and shit. I guess I didn't notice that much – I just hauled ass toward the city.

_Wait, the city? That's where there would be more people, and thus more ghouls…_

You think I considered that? If you did, you're wrong. All I knew was, my dad worked at the hospital downtown, and he didn't have a car.

_But wasn't your family rather, you know, affluent?_

He was disabled. Couldn't drive.

_**[The reason for John's fierce determination to save his father becomes clear to me.**_

Yeah. Anyway, I'm absolutely shredding ass down this normally crowded highway, and all I see is a few other cars hauling ass just the same – in the other direction. That's when I got that maybe, maybe this was all coming from the city. So I finally remember that I have a cell phone. I pull it out, still doing about 70, and look – no bars. What the fuck happened to the cell tower? Why would Zombies go for the fucking cell stations? They weren't that smart. Or at least it didn't seem to me. Still doesn't make sense, but what the hell. Then I see it gets one bar. Then that disappears.

I try anyway. I get him on the line, and my heart leaps into my throat. It's real choppy, and I can only make out bits and pieces. I don't remember exactly what I heard, but it was something to the effect of "Shut up and listen. We're going west. Get in your car and head towards Arkansas. We love you very much. We're all safe."

_Hell of a lot for a conversation that was all chopped up._

Yeah – mind you, I didn't hear all that, word for word, but that's basically what I got.

_Right. You filled in the blanks._

Exactly. So anyway, I realize that I'm heading the wrong way. I do a U-turn and start tearing ass in the other direction, following the flow of what little traffic there is. I check my gas, and thank God that I filled it up just the night before. My nerves start to calm a little from that panicked state, but they're still buzzing. I know I'm going to pass my neighborhood again, not to mention my school. I just sort of keep my eyes on the road, and accelerate a little more. I did my best to ignore the fact that I had to swerve to avoid my "classmates". A lot of them, I didn't manage to avoid. I think that will always stay with me.

_I'm sorry…_

Don't be. By that time, they were reanimated. I shouldn't feel bad, but it's hard to dehumanize them. I guess that's kinda ironic. We try to "put a human face on something so distinctly inhuman", as the president put it. But whatever. I survived, they didn't because they were- No, actually. They weren't stupid. They were just… Unlucky? I was lucky and they weren't. Hell, humanity was lucky to even make it through this hellstorm.

* * *

I didn't know exactly what the hell was happening. Really, I wasn't too concerned about _anything_ but killing the zombies that were slowly progressing up the roof. I mean, between the sporadic bursts of Sheen's shotgun, the groans of the zombies and me killing them, I hardly heard the explosion from the huge bomb thingy, (Funny, never asked Jimmy what the thing was…) and only noticed that we were being lifted upwards until, well, I was being upwards!

Did I mention what I was doing? Yeah, I was doing damned fine. I was up on the roof above Jimmy's window, using the rifle. I think Jimmy was standing in front of the window, using the carbine. Libby and Carl were, surprisingly, standing right there next to Sheen shooting! They were supposed to be the wink links, y'know? But after what happened to Carl, you know… Anyways, well Sheen was doing what Sheen was _born_ to do. I wouldn't doubt that we had, at least, eighty bodies sitting there. In a period of maybe fifteen minutes, that's pretty good!

It's like it was all just friggin taken from us, you know? We had literally _just_ gotten back, maybe a day, from stealing that food. We had worked hard! Not just hard, like working on a paper, but risking our lives, nearly losing them on several occasions! For what now? I guarantee you that somewhere out there, you're going to find a can of soup or something sitting out there on that burnt little whisper of a town. That was us, the people who survived.

But I digress. I first noticed something was happening when a zombie, sweet little girl I knew who always showed me her dollies, was in my sights. I was feeling like a murderous son-err, daughter of a bitch, killing little girls, you know? That was before I saw her lunge for Sheen and the meat she was chewing on. Don't judge a book by its cover, etcetera, etcetera. Right when I was about to pull the trigger and end her unlife, she just… Whipped away, like she had been caught by some invisible roller coaster. I glanced behind her, and that's when I saw this, big, beautiful, fireball. The sky was all red and polluted, y'know? As if God was doing a horror set, with the tint and all. Shit, with all the fires and crap, it was like looking at the town through hell colored glasses.

I was just thrown backwards, dropping my gun in the process. I hastily grabbed onto my stolen satchel which contained most of my personal possessions, along with a lot of my survival crap. I had a good length of rope, a few cans of water and soup that I didn't show anyone else – I mean, I liked everybody and all, even loved Jimmy, but I wanted to live. You might say that's coldhearted, but that's just the way I am.- and a knife. Not much, I know, but it was all I could scrounge up. I distinctly remember the cans falling out, probably because of the satisfying thunk that I heard in the middle of a flip. Did I mention I was flipping like crazy? I never was much for thrills, and I felt like I was about to vomit and crap my pants at the same time.

After the most terrifying few seconds of my life, I remember nearly falling of a roof again, but being stopped by something, something fleshly. I blacked out for at least ten minutes, before sleepily opening my eyes. I don't know if it was from the force of hitting the roof or just being tired, but I sure as hell did faint. I should mention that I hadn't slept in a while, what, with the threat of zombie apocalypse (Which we had been referring to as zombieclypse, thanks to Sheen for his amazing mind.) on our doorstep. Yeah, I actually felt kinda good after the little nap. Then I saw it.

It was a grotesque body- no, skeleton- that was leaning over a gun, pistol to be exact. The flesh was just beginning to peel off, and I could definitely see the hole, and hell, through it. It was wearing old blue jeans, leather jacket, seemed like a pretty tough guy. All around him was exactly what we didn't have and needed. Food, weapons, water and tons of it! And yet…

I about shot it, thinking it was a zombie, but then I saw the hole. I thought, and I do to this day no matter how macabre it is, that this guy was a nutjob! I mean think- We were five kids, hardly any supplies, but we fought on. This guy had everything, could have easily survived! Yet he didn't have that one thing- That one thing that sets us apart from your run of the mill ghoul- A will to live, to survive, to keep on! We should have been the ones with the holes in our heads, goddamnit. But we wanted to live.

Anyways, enough of my social commentary. Back to the action packed plot that I know you want. I swallowed down the vomit, which had sadly returned after seeing this, and reached into my satchel to see what I had left. The rope, the knife and bottle of water. I downed about half of the water, and ate a piece of bread from the guys bag. I also grabbed the pistol, a .22 caliber, and a few clips for it. I left the big guns there; I mean I was trying to run here! But anyways, I grabbed a knife from his kit and cut down the TV antenna. My plan was pretty simple- I was going to tie it to one end of the rope and use it as a sort of grappling hook and jump roofs until I got to a car or something, maybe even the woods. I didn't know what I was thinking with either of those. I learned pretty quick that cars were a bad idea later on, and the woods… Well, I wouldn't like being chased through a forest. Imagine breaking a leg, or getting stuck at a river or lake. That would be the worst way to die, slowly being enveloped by zombies walking towards you while you can't do a thing.

Well, I tried. I quickly tied up the rope on the antenna, on the straight part. Before I did anything, I tucked a knife between my teeth like some crazy pirate and holstered the pistol. I couldn't help but think that this was going to be another 'raid the house by crossing an electric wire' type thing. With a huge heave, I threw the thing onto a house, diagonally across from the roof I was on, into a drainpipe. I pulled it a bit, to make sure it was secure, and it was. Oh how deluded I was. I used another one of the guy's knifes (Not a hunting knife. He brought silverware to a roof. SILVERWARE!) to fasten it to the roof, so I could use the rope as a type of zip line.

Grabbing onto the rope, I slowly advanced, slowly but surely.

Snap.

I jerked my head to the drainpipe. It had fallen downwards because of my weight. Suddenly, I just began sliding downwards, my hands burning like hell. I quickly shifted my weight, stopping my descent before I fell down. I was in a pretty bad position here, man. I realized my feet were hanging down, and then I felt a bristle of a head against them. These damn things surrounded me, and I was right above them! I tried my best to get my feet onto the rope, but it was pretty hard when combined with fear and weight, you know? I managed it, however, but I was tiring quickly. That's what the zombies got on you. They don't feel pain, so they don't feel fatigue. They keep on going and going until their legs are gone, and then they'll drag themselves with their hands, until finally they're just a limb free stump, still trying to get to you.

But then I heard the greatest sound ever. The roar of an engine. I didn't care who it was, even if they wanted me in there, I was ready to drop onto the hood of the car just to get away. Then I heard the crackle of a gun, blasting away at the horde below me. I realized it had to be a friend; I was positive that we were the only ones left! I managed a look, and it was a Humvee, big, brown, and goddamn beautiful. In the windshield I saw the face of Sheen. I'll be damned if it wasn't a hell of a Dues Ex Machina, but it was _my_ Dues Ex Machina! He honked, which I realized was my signal. I dropped in, shut the hatch, and sat down. I didn't notice the dead bodies and didn't even acknowledge Libby, but I sure was relieved. I just sat back and enjoyed the ride, for what it was worth.

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Sorry for the wait, but I hope the reader request is okay! Please leave reviews, they make me feel very special. :P 


	11. Someone Call Autozone

**People are condemming the poor guys who killed themselves in the ten years during and after the infestation... Hell... Suicide doesn't have to be suicide. I'd rather point a gun to my head then become one of those bastards...- **_**Dwayne Adams**_

* * *

How long had it been?

No, really, how long?

My life had already flashed by my eyes. My life had already slipped through my fingers and out my ass a couple times over. And for what? A humvee with Sheen gunning towards God knows where.

Carl was dead. I knew that much. He was thrown somewhere, a ways off from me. I was already halfway to the truck before I heard him scream. I was probably in the humvee before he died. We were already gone when he turned... Into a zombie, I mean. I look pack on this now: We were just kids. We were less then kids, hell- We were teenagers who all thought they'd be the best thing since sliced bread or Albert Einstien or something. I think the zombies made everybody step back and think: This could have been me. And y'know- that's good. In a sick way.

Anyways, we were hauling down the road, standing up every five minutes or so to spray zombies off the roof. I don't know how we all learned how to shoot, maybe it was the years of me taking them to places and then having to shoot their way out.. Maybe. This wasn't one of those stupid zombie movies where we were all protective about ammo in the beginning but after we find the huge stockpile or whatever it doesn't matter anymore. Oh, hell no. There was two, maybe three of thirty round clips for the weapons we were using. The random assortment of knives were worn and the food on the bodies would last about two days. We weren't stupid. And the gas... Well, we didn't think about the gas.

Libby had broken her ankle, and Cindy was bleeding pretty bad. You can tell the dead blood from the human blood- Zombies got this nasty sticky yellowish brown stuff, while humans bleed straight red. She was covered head to toe with both. I didn't know what to do with Libby unless we found a town with a hospital- quick, but Cindy could be patched up easily enough.

It was the middle of nowhere. A small forest in jumping out of a flatland. And our truck, our ticket out of here- Our goddamn chariot to heaven, or hell, or whatever awaited us... Broke down.

I think Sheen summed it up best:

"Goddamnit."

**Authors Note: Woah, I updated. **


	12. Texas Derby

_**The worst part about the war? My kids can't go into a body of water without being afraid. You can't take a stroll in the woods, even today when we're mopping up, without being afraid. Hell, that's the worst part. - Janie Marshall**_

It wasn't that I was afraid...

I mean, me, afraid? Nah! Not good ol' Sheen, Ultralord wonder! I was always Jimmy's stupid muscle, (even if I wasn't strong) always the guy who was supposed to just listen to Jimmy. But now Jimmy was scared and I... I realized how much I needed the Jimster. How much we all needed him- for inventions, for fun, for saving our sorry asses- and I began to lose hope.

The truck had hummed to a stop in some backwards little road typical of a small town whose buildings are pulled out of some, like, Marlon Brando movie or something. There aren't many woods in Texas, -from what I was told, it's notoriously flat- but where they are, man...God, I can't even describe it. If I may use a quote from an old favorite: "This place is fuller then a Karkkliddian Battle Cruiser!"

Heh.

"Neutron! Pull one of your stupid brainblasts or something!"

We were all thinking that, naturally. Cindy just had to haul off and say it. Y'know... Don't say I told her, but I don't like that chica very much.

"You don't understand! I can't, okay? This car runs on fossil fuel! It takes millions of years naturally, and twenty minutes if I happened to have the entirety of my lab here..."

Such a happy couple, I know- But I was more concerned with the zombies moving around in the forest. I don't know, I've got this sense. A _Z_ixth Sense, if you well. Heh. Get it? Z for zombie? Um, ya, anyways, they were here. Let me explain the kind of zombie we were seeing: They weren't fast or anything, but they weren't exactly slow either. Like a walking pace, almost. The rest is left up to your imagination... I think they smell like rotten hamburger, though, so take that as you will.

A few burst from the shade, grabbing for Libby who had her back turned. A quick head shot toppled the dude and Libby limped to my side.

"Sorry to interrupt," I said, "But we have to hoove it out of here!"

Damn, I'm good as they get.


	13. The Only Easy Day Was Never

_**Amazing grace! How sweet the sound,**__**  
**__**That saved a wretch like me!**__**  
**__**I once was lost but now am found**__**  
**__**Was blind, but now I see….**_

_**-Last transmission from New Orleans**_

_**

* * *

**_

As soon as Sheen told us to 'hoof it out of here', I thought one thing: We're all dead. Think about it; I was bleeding to death thanks to our zombie pals, Neutron was a nerd who probably would die without his inventions. Libby had a broken ankle, and Sheen… Well, Sheen was _Sheen! _It was practically his job to find a way to screw us over.

So yeah, I decided right then and there to take charge. I wasn't going to let us die, surrounded by zombies and in the middle of nowhere, and I sure as hell wasn't going to die with our back turned, trying to run away! So I did the only sensible thing…

I went back to the, uhm, broken down truck and decided to stay- Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time, okay? We still had weapons, we still had me and Sheen for our crack-shots. The truck was metal, bulletproof windows to boot, so we could just pick them off from inside, right? And it worked, even if it was only by some miracle that we survived…

"Guys! Back to the Humvee, we're making a stand!"

Despite Neutron's protests we all ran (or in Libby's case, limped) back to the truck and hopped in. All the way Sheen was covering our rear with his new 'toy', the automatic rifle he looted off one of those poor soldiers. We were running low on ammo, but he knew how to conserve it and tried to line up his shots best as he could when your backing up and know there's things that want to eat you all around… And he got them, too, I'm talking clean headshots here- You should get him to train your guys, 'cuz look at all the good _they_ did when they tried to fight the things…

Anyways, we made it in unharmed, besides Neutron's wounded pride. I hopped inside, rolling down a window in the process and picking out targets. The interior of the truck was completely ruined, brown zombie blood and red human blood all coming together like some screwed up Picasso. It stunk to high heaven, too, but when you and everybody around you haven't had a shower in a week, you don't really notice. Sheen was standing up shooting through a gun port up top. Even with his best efforts, they were still coming pretty quick- Well, not quick, y'know how the things are, but the newer ones go at a pretty quick hobble and they were trucking…

We kept up the fire for as long as we could, and there were a lot of re-killed bodies around us, but we were getting beaten. They were within about 20 feet of the Humvee and I had pretty much resigned myself to God, or whoever was out there. As Sheen glumly said "Only thirty rounds left! There's a lot more than thirty dudes out there!", my pistol had run out of ammo. So I rolled up the window, unsheathed my knife (just in case) and… Well…

This is kinda personal. Really none of your business. What do you mean you need it for the report, what kind of perverted shit- Okay, whatever. I went over to Jimmy! I wanted to spend my last moment with him… But it's not like I'm in _love _with him or anything. I mean, yeah, we had that thing on the roof but I- Oh, yeah, I understand, moving on…

I moved over next to him and grabbed his hand, gripping it as tight as I could. He looked over at me with a fake scowl on his face. "Come to take charge again, Cindy?" We were dieing and he still was acting steamed about me not listening to him?

"Look, Jimmy.. I, I mean, it's been really good knowing you, I uhm, I really like you and all. I just wish it didn't have to be this way.."

"It doesn't have to be, Cindy…"

As I leaned in to kiss, I heard a volley of gunfire and the whoop of a voice I recognized… I jerked away from Jimmy, poor guy looked disappointed, heh heh, and looked out the window. Most of the zombies were down, but how?

And that's when I saw the school's ROTC unit decked out in football pads and holding ancient rifles killing zombies by the dozen.

Jesus Christ, we had been saved by a bunch of army-nerds.


	14. The Few, the Proud, the Losers

_**I know everybody says that we're safe. It certainly looks like we are, but think- One bite, just one person infecting another, who in turn infects ten more… And it's back to square one.**_

_**James P. Brookfield, Viral Expert

* * *

**_

It was pretty crazy when all those zombies were swarming us. I mean, I'll be honest- I wasn't doing anything the whole time but looking out the window with Neutron and tucking away a knife I found on the floor of the Humvee, as if I could do anything with that if it came down to it. Me and Neutron kinda felt like dead weight when it came to combat situations, you know what I mean? For one, my ankle was still hurting like hell, for two, I wasn't that good of a shot. I don't think during our little stay on the roof I touched a weapon, even once! Cindy and Sheen could handle the grunt work, right?

Well, handle it they did, at least until the ammo started running out. It's funny, in the movies it's like they never ran out of ammo, at least until one jumped out of the closet or whatever and they conveniently are out… But hell, that was our biggest concern, y'know? And because we lost all of our weapons and ammo in the blast, we were, to put it in one of Sheen's crazy ass phrases, "Up Yarclukkian Creek without a lazer-paddle."

But in the end it's exactly Sheen's type of people (nerdy losers) that saved our asses. NJROTC, if you military types don't know it's the Navy Junior Reserve Officer's Training Corps, and if you're asking what the hell that means, so are the rest of us. To put it in terms _normal people _can understand, it's meant to train people for the military. In reality it just makes them a bunch of weird guys who play army, or navy, whatever. That confuses me too: Why are they in the Navy? There's not a body of water for miles around!

I guess I shouldn't be calling them names, though. They came in (ancient) guns blazing and dropped quite a few. Neutron and Cindy cut their make out session short (That's right, I saw it, girl. Try to keep secrets from your best friend, hah!) and sprang into action. Neutron yelled for everyone to clear out of the Humvee, and that Sheen would hang back and give covering fire with whatever bullets he had left. We started trucking it towards them, I was pretty much limping for all I was worth. After they ended mopping up we went towards them to talk.

"Holy crap, there's others? We thought we were the only survivors in the entire town, where are you guys coming from?" That was their leader, I think his name was Tim or something, he was wearing this terrible looking camouflage uniform underneath some football pads for protection.

"Nerdtron's house. You two would get together just fine, losers.."

"Shut up Cindy, they just saved our lives. What about you, do you guys have food, weapons, anything? How did you find us?"

He didn't say anything, he just smirked and pointed over to the ridge behind him. Over the hill we could see the unforgettable silhouette of something we had been dreading to go to everyday for the past four years: Retroville High.

Oh, Jesus, this was turning out to be a long friggin' week.


End file.
